welcome to p-m-d (looks like pms or something, doesn't it!?)... i couldn't actually think of anything better to call the site, unless it had something to do with papercuts on eyeballs so i thought i'd save you the gruesome image and give you one of a purple monkey and his/her dishwasher instead.

unfortunately, due to a recent miscombobulation on my behalf, i deleted the main page and replaced it with something to do with bree (seems fitting, after all- this is my Elendor page) so now i'm trying to remember what i actually wrote as my introduction, and i can tell you that it wasn't this!

but the show must go on!

Updates 'n Stuff

Well I moved Elli to Ndaedeldhrim (ha! I can spell it without looking!) and changed her name to Linnelei, and just recieved my app for Mithlond. Hopefully it'll get approved and I'll be in- whee!

And I added some more logs, most of which I stole from Hugh's site O:) Though he said he didn't mind I still feel bad, hehe. But yeah, they're all up there, and if you hover, little descriptions come up, which is nice.

I still have to finish doing all that stuff from my bedroom, like the animals page and the randomity pages and stuff. I'll get around to it eventually.

Some websites:

wesaw-a personal site filled with the wanderings of my restless mind and other depressing tidbits that you probably won't care about.

seance- my band's site. it's very.. grey, at the moment, and inspired by the layout of this site, no less.

bree-i like brie. i mean.. bree.

Into the 5th Hour

The clockface, like the faces of
Angels who are fell from
Fell unto the hands of
Who are tearing at my
Restless mind.

Into the 5th hour my mind will wander,
Such scattered turns of
Darkest yearnings,
And fearful that the sun is rising,
I turn to break that clock again.

Shining is her hollowed beauty,
Seeking out those names of angels,
Spun between her spider’s fingers,
Pale and spindly doth unwind me,
Until drawing on
And ever onwards,
I am forced to see the sun again.

No beauty doth this angel find,
Within the deep and dark confines
Of this tortured angel’s mind.

Into the 5th hour, the clock is chiming!
-Angels wait for their destruction;
And on the brink of doom they ponder:
What happened to the sunrise?

Stretching now and further onwards
There begins the dreams of sunlight:
Of rays and golden beauty told
A circlet made of polished gold-
But no truth in dreaming;
Lies are told:
The night remains!
Still black and cold-
And ashes of those angel’s bones,
Drift carelessly amongst the snow,
And stone and dirt lie
There below,
Where no sunlight dares to show,
So here
I take my last abode.
And await the end of that
Curs’ed chiming.

And chiming still that clock does wonder
(That clock whose face is all but ashes)
When this hour will be over!
And what, (if it is ever over)
Will bring the world a light again!
Into the 5th hour the clock is chiming
And days and days are still forgotten
Forgotten like those tearing fingers!

Tearing fingers now awoken!
Like in silence: darkness spoken,
Evil tongues and breath still burning,
On and on the wheels are turning,
Turning on and ever onwards!
To stop the sun from taking to the sky!
Wheels and clogs, the spindle’s falling;
Into the place of dark and shadow
Where the sun can never reach
And then…

Softly as the snow is falling;
Trailing on and ever onwards until,
There I see it, creeping slowly…
The spindle’s fallen, and unwound me, and yet
No fear inside my fearful fortress,
No hands to tear my tortured mind..
I’m free! And free for ever forwards-
Free until the end of time!
Free to taste the blooming roses!
Free to hold her hand in mine…

There I see her hollowed beauty; fallen to the dark and through me,
So I take it, and I kiss her gently,
And bring her back to life again!

Into the 5th hour, the sun is rising!
And bathes the land in all her beauty!
And the moon I am, and there beside her
And we are smiling to the world again:
Smiling on like two young lovers!
Free to greet the world again!

And of the angels?
Life renewed them,
So they took unto the sky once more!
And all is well and as it should be,
And the clock?
It chimes no more.

Fadeyka- svet mhiro leskít
Mier sírdut órtunka bør írtunka,
Mier skiír santîs bør
Mier dír í’kír mayl tché druk,
Svet mhiro égat.
Ýsfir fúr mhi skélus,
Bør mhiro mirgo n’svór djob
Armír bør jakír ílcar mhiro’y.
Bør mier lekskís vý’hír svet dtregut,
Hértsu kírdos-kzýfír
Bør adroka rafal,
Vý kír edýgharï fúr Edrígu bør Tasya.